Wintergrass
has become one of the biggest bluegrass festivals in the country. The
four-day event features some of the best players, pickers and hammers
in the world. It offers dances. It offers kids’ activities. It offers
workshops. It offers an amazing assortment of vendors with everything
from guitars to fiddles to mandolins to rare recordings and even a
necklace or two. It offers concerts by bluegrass giants including The SteelDrivers, Laurie Lewis and the Right Hands, Blue Highway and many more. And, oh, boy, does it ever have jamming.
India Mahal Restaurant Lunch buffet Price: $8.99 Burn Factor: 3.5 out of four Molotov cocktails
Located within a thriving downtown business lunch crowd, India Mahal’s $8.99 buffet is quick, tasty, and absolutely unbeatable. Warm, authentic, and fresh Indian food that gives you gas within minutes â€" that’s what makes this Tacoma lunch meal the real deal.
Items like Aloo Palak, Tandoori Chicken, Mater Paneer, and Curry were all labeled as “medium hot.†Meh, I would beg to differ â€" at least on my topsy-turvy spice scale. These, although full of incredible flavor, were foods that lay heavily on the “mild†side of the bed.
The item that made this entire meal worth every bite. The item that had its own bowl alongside my metal plate. The item I went back for time and time again, and slathered on every spoonful was India Mahal’s Mint Chutney. Holy Toledo, Batman! This shit punched me in the face and scored high on my Molotov cocktail grading system.
Best part was watching Tacomachickadee assume this Mint Chutney mix of Serrano peppers, onions, yogurt, cilantro, and mint was a salad dressing. She shoved a gargantuan bite in her mouth. I don’t know what was more painful â€" my stomach ache from laughing so hard or the look of hatred she shot me for doing so.
CHRISTOPHER WOOD:THE GRAND CINEMA’S OSCAR PARTY >>>
Unlike Ron Burgundy, I am NOT a big deal. Though I somewhat fancy myself as a filmmaker, I must regretfully report that I had no hand whatsoever in the making of any film up for an Academy Award this year. Thus you will not see me on television this Sunday rubbing elbows with the likes of Danny Boyle and Kate Winslet. Shocking, I know.
The Grand Cinema’s Oscar soiree should help me get over my artistic anonymity. If, like me, you lack the clout to muscle your way into Hollywood’s Kodak Theatre, the Rialto can accommodate your wish to see all those shiny movie stars up close.
“It’s the biggest night in film, come celebrate it with … the best movie house in Tacoma,†proclaims Rachel Marecle, director of community development for the Grand. Serving as head organizer for Sunday’s event she urges readers to “bring your party to ours.â€
And what a party. For $17 ($14 for Grand members), attendees receive dinner, dessert, and several chances to win raffle prizes throughout the evening. For those who treat Oscar night as another Halloween and feel an unexplainable urge to dress as Mickey Rourke’s wrestler, or even your favorite cinematographer (mine is Claudio Miranda!), the Grand promises a $100 El Gaucho certificate for best costume.
Suggestion: Can someone out there please show up as an elderly man who grows younger as the evening progresses? Sweet.
Even sweeter: By correctly guessing the most Oscar winners, you can win your own little slice o’ gold â€" the coveted Golden Ticket, which allows the bearer free movies at the Grand for an entire year. Move over Wonka, and take your unholy everlasting gobstopper with ye; I only crave a lifetime supply of art cinema.
So, will voters shower Slumdog with statuettes? Will Marisa Tomei’s breasts finally receive the accolades they deserve? Could Meryl Streep BE any more talented? (Seriously, she’s a freak.) Find out at the Rialto.
So I think I’ve hit bottom. How do I know? I went shopping at a Wal-Mart Supercenter.
What? You’ve never been? Well, if this unemployment epidemic continues, you might end up among the people who have to reconsider.
Wal-Mart Supercenters are overwhelming. I kept looking for a tram or a Segway or something to help me traverse acres and acres of affordable food, clothes, electronics, household goods, guns, ammo and gardening supplies. Note: Wal-Mart has one of the best selections of condoms you’ll ever see. Shotgun shells too.
Before my fall, I had avoided the world’s largest retailer and its demonic Rollbacks because I was convinced that Wal-Mart is the personification of capitalist evil.
And they may very well be.
This past December, Wal-Mart announced that it settled 63 wage and hour class action lawsuits that have been pending against the company for years. That number represents approximately 86 percent of the 73 wage/hour and overtime class action suits currently pending against the company. What these cases have revealed through evidence and employee testimony is a “corporate culture†and systematic approach to cutting labor costs by dictating managers hire below the “preferred†staffing levels and rewarding managers for keeping labor costs down.
Lawsuit documents have cited various methods used by managers to hold down labor costs, including: forcing employees to work off the clock; requiring workers to skip lunch and rest breaks; and manipulating time and wage records. An internal audit performed by Wal-Mart in July 2000 indicated these types of violations were and have been a massive problem companywide for years, according to Wal-Mart hawks Wal-Mart Watch.
Walking through Wal-Mart doesn’t help the impression that it’s been designed to exploit. The food selection at Wal-Mart is terrifying. I found six aisles dedicated to selling the least nutritious food America can get away with. There’s literally a whole aisle â€" a really long one - dedicated to soft drinks that have as much nutritional value as a piece of tree bark. Maybe less. Oh, and on the other side, nothing but chips fried in hydrogenated fats.
They did have a nice selection of fresh produce.
So, I spent the next hour checking off my shopping list, and pretty much feeling horrifically guilty for buying groceries from the devil. Then I noticed something. Forgive me for assuming, but nearly every person I saw shopping there looked as poor as I am. There was one difference, however. They didn’t look like they felt guilty at all.
Didn’t anyone ever tell these people that Wal-Mart is ruining one small town after another?! Didn’t they see the Wal-Mart: The High Cost of Low Priceâ€? I though for a moment “They just don’t know any better.â€
Then I thought “God, am I really such a condescending asshole? Maybe they just can’t afford to shop at Metropolitan Market (which I refer to lovingly as ‘Babylon’s Nipple’). Maybe they’re just poor.â€
Like me.
So when I ended up in line behind what appeared to be three generations of female members of a Latino family, all chomping on Snickers ice cream bars while they tried for 10 minutes to pay for their unhealthy groceries with two credit cards and food stamps, I didn’t look down my nose.
I laughed, and offered to help them make up the difference.
It’s Friday afternoon at the Weekly Volcano World Headquarters. Our fearless leader Pappi Swarner is in a romantic mood again. He’s fired up his jukebox, playing Captain & Tenille’s “Love Will Keep Us Together.†The Steno Pool has locked its door. They know what’s next.
Makeup Monsters can’t vote. They can’t buy smokes or smut or suds. They can’t rent a car or play the lottery or (thankfully) get drafted. They can, however, f***ing rock, and the Tacoma duo have rocked their way into the semi-finals of Sound Off! â€" the mega-battle of underage bands at Seattle’s EMP. Isaac Solverson and Shayne Weeks, both 17 and students at Tacoma’s School of the Arts, keep it real as real gets; they’re just two dudes playing songs â€" guitar and drums â€" and therein lies the appeal. Whether it’s imposed on them by their circumstances or embraced by them as an aesthetic, their ingenuous, minimalist, DIY approach is a breath of fresh air in the increasingly decadent world of so-called indie rock. “You’re only 29, got a lot to learn,†sang Johnny Rotten in the Sex Pistols’ “Seventeen.†You can learn it from Makeup Monsters, 17 and just makin’ noise.
MATT DRISCOLL:THE STIMULUS, THE KID, AND PESKY INMATES >>>
Another week has come to an end, which means it’s once again time for me to sit in my robe, drinking moderately decent coffee because I’m too poor to afford the good stuff, offering up a recap of the past week’s events. I agreed to take on this task of questionable importance about a month ago, and though there are times when my brain feels like mush on Saturday mornings, it’s a challenge I’ve come to love. Nothing says “It’s time for the weekend!†like posting satirical bullshit on the Internet, with plenty of pictures of dogs drinking beer. Nothing.
With that, let’s get going. Here’s a look at the week that was.
Monday, Feb. 16
Honestly, I’m sure something important must have happened on Monday. Maybe Baarsma put a new Obama bumper sticker on his Prius, or the News Tribune reported that Tacoma schools was openly considering selling the naming rights to school facilities (wait, that did happen! But later they decided to table it).
But I really can’t remember. Monday seems like 1993 right now. Distant, poorly dressed and unremarkable.
Tuesday, Feb. 17
When I think back on Tuesday, things get a little bit clearer. That may be because President Obama finally signed the much debated, much maligned, much prayed for STIMULUS. I started capitalizing “The Stimulus†a few weeks ago, but at this point I’ve come to the conclusion that it should be all caps. THE STIMULUS. It only seems right.
Just think how many jobs will be created by the simple need to print all that money that doesn’t even exist yet. These are wild and wooly times we live in.
Of course, THE STIMULUS isn’t big enough â€" at least if you listen to most on the left (as I tend to do). But then again, it could be way too big â€" if you listen to those on the right.
The only sad and unavoidable nugget of wisdom we’ve learned from the economic debacle is, in actuality, nobody has any fucking clue what to do. It’s all guesswork. This is uncharted territory, boys and girls, and even some of the country’s best minds are just along for the ride.
In the light, at least someone did something, I suppose. Sure, it’s a little depressing to realize that Obama’s political future rides on whether he â€" and THE STIMULUS (and whatever follows it) â€" fixes the economy. That’s a lot of pressure, especially considering nobody has any fucking clue what to do.
But what are you going to do? Shitty hand.
Wednesday, Feb. 18
After toying with emotions of every goddamn baseball fan in the Pacific Northwest, word came late Wednesday that “the Kid,†Ken Griffey Jr., will be wearing a Mariners uniform next season … at least until he breaks his toe in the shower.
Feel free to wallow in the nostalgia with the video below.
Thursday, Feb. 19
In last Saturday’s version of the Weekly Volcano “Week in Review†I mentioned that legislators in Olympia were tossing around the idea of a porn tax to help pay for the GAU (General Assistance Unemployable) program â€" which helps those unable to work because of mental or physical disabilities, and is facing massive cuts just like every other government entity.
While I’m certainly not in favor of seeing those unable to work because of physical or mental disabilities lose their GAU benefits, I did wonder in writing last week whether branding purchasing porn as a sin â€" in the form of a sin tax â€" and making those who masturbate to backroom smut pay for the GAU program was really all that fair?
Well, the hairy palmed masses can breath easy. On Thursday State Rep. Mark Miloscia’s (D-Federal Way) proposed porn tax died in committee. Apparently, it would have made tax structure too complicated.
Friday was only yesterday, yet I already feel removed from it. Maybe that’s the freeing affect of the weekend, or maybe that’s the affect of the nine Millers I had last night at the LAVA show at Bob’s Java Jive.
While I don’t have much gas left in my Saturday morning tank, and I’d really like to just get on to posting pictures of dogs with beers, one interesting story did emerge on Friday. (Actually, there were plenty of interesting stories from Friday, but many of them involved dug up remains on Hilltop, and I’d just rather not go there. I’m in my robe.)
State Attorney General Rob McKenna, who looks like one of those guys from Hotchickswithdouchebags.comâ€" only without the hot chick, introduced some legislation and started a press blitz to change the state’s laws on public records requests.
Apparently, a band of surly inmates are making McKenna’s life miserable thanks to constant bogus records requests. Not only are they lodging a crazy amount of request, but then, if the inmates don’t get their requested records on time, they sue. And they’re doing it in increasing numbers.
Poor guy. Almost makes you feel sorry for Robby McKenna, doesn’t it? His poor office can’t do what it’s supposed to do in a timely fashion because inmates have found a loophole and decided to fuck with the system.
Give a guy enough time to think, and this is what happens.
Singer/songwriters are sometimes viewed as self-absorbed cry babies that desperately need you to listen as they sing tales of girlfriends dumping them. I don't claim personal knowledge as to the state of the heart of the musicians performing tonight at the Tacoma Songwriters show, but I can vouch for their talent. Joshua Ott, singer/guitar player for of the Joshua Cain Band, which combines elements of Delta blues, a bit of rockabilly and a healthy dose of gospel to make one masterful take on rock and roll will perform a stripped-down version of what he does best as the final acoustic performance before the Joshua Cain Band's CD release in March. Aaron Spiro has performed for capacity audiences at Jazzbones receiving standing ovations. Spiro has a full swelling voice that he manipulates with ease- strong, soft, joyful, lilting and even soul-wrenching at times.
[Shakabrah Java, Joshua Ott with Spiro, Kirsten Wenlock, Luke Stevens and Amirsoul, 7:30 p.m., all ages, no cover, 2618 Sixth Ave., Tacoma, 253.572.2787]
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